Mad Love
by tudor-rose445
Summary: Alice never thought she was going to be singled out this way. At first he was her mentor, someone who she found herself falling in love with. But she never realized how dangerous her teacher could be. Based on "The Phantom of the Opera".
1. Chapter 1

Ooc: I am still working on "Child of Wonderland", but I had to try this one. I am going to be playing more on Hatter's madness in this one, but it won't be overwhelming, I hope. This first chapter is very short because it is a prologue. Kind of. :P

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Lewis Carroll owns "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass". Syfy owns "Alice". Gaston Leroux owns "The Phantom of the Opera". Andrew Lloyd Webber owns "Don't Cry for Me Argentina".

Alice would always remember the night that her life changed.

She had been trying to force herself to take deep breaths while guzzling down a bottle of water. Her frantic eyes glanced around the dressing room as she tried to take her mind off the crowd of people a few rooms over. Even though she didn't want to she could hear them talking, laughing, settling into their seats. Her mother would be somewhere in that crowd waiting nervously to see her only child. Alice knew that it was unlikely that she would spot Carol while onstage, but she always tried.

Alice would have thought that she would be used to performing in front of people by now. Performing was going to be the nineteen year old college student's profession after all. Well, she hoped it was. She really was intending to become a teacher, with a concentration in music. It was the safer choice and at this moment in her life the safer choice was the most rational. But she still found herself nervous before any performance. The crowd was beginning to quiet as one of the first students began their song.

Weeks had gone into preparation for this recital. Her mid-term grade would be decided on this single performance. She glanced once more in the mirror to make sure that her hair, which had been twisted into a careful bun at the back of her head, was still in place. To her relief there wasn't a chunk of her hair hanging from the bobby pins as she had feared. Lifting herself from the stool that she had been sitting on in front of the rows of mirrors that lined the dressing room, she gently smoothed the skirt of her dress. The last time she had worn the a-line gown had been at her cousin's wedding two years ago. Although the blue number wasn't the best looking dress among her other female classmates' it served tonight's purpose.

After her father's death eight years ago money had become tight. Her mother had begun to take extra shifts at the retail store that she worked at while Alice had joined her there on the weekends. The only way that she had been able to attend Empire State College was through scholarships and money saved from her father's life insurance. But her mother never really spoke of their fiscal issues. She was determined for her daughter to receive an education.

A man with a clipboard glanced up at her as she neared the group of students waiting to go on. "Alice Hamilton?" he asked, most likely realizing it was her since he had already taken attendance of the other students. Smiling sheepishly after realizing that she had been the last student to emerge, she nodded.

"Number four," was all he said, glancing up at her and nodding to the girl in front of her who was third. As she lined up behind the other student she quickly went through the music in her head. After much thinking she had chosen "Don't Cry for Me Argentina". Her teacher hadn't made much of a comment on her choice so she assumed it had been a good choice.

But now as the girl in front of her took her place on the stage and began an aria from Madame Butterfly, Alice regretted her choice. Maybe she should have tried something more challenging like the girl before her chose. It wasn't as if she could run down to the accompanist and just change her song, so she was stuck with it. She watched carefully as the young woman continued her song unfazed that so many people were watching her.

As much as she wanted to pursue a career in musical theater, Alice knew that she would have to overcome her stage fright. It seemed a little foolish for her but she was sensitive on the topic whenever one of her teachers brought it up. Her father had often teased her about it when she had been younger, when she had once frozen in front of a room full of people during an elementary school concert.

She barely noticed that the girl's song had finished and that the audience was applauding. Waiting until the other student took her bow Alice crossed the stage. She was announced to the auditorium full of spectators before the pianist began the opening bars. Focusing on the back of the room, not even bothering to take note of the theater's appearance, she began the song.

Alice believed that the reason that she liked performing was that for a moment, she was someone else. She wasn't Alice Hamilton, college sophomore. She wasn't a young woman mourning her father. She was whoever the music made her to be.

She realized that the song had ended, and that she had stopped singing. She smiled gratefully at the applause given to her before making her way to the other side of the stage to exit. Her head spun, her heart was in her throat- she felt as if she was flying. There was nothing like coming off a song. Blindly walking back downstairs to the rows of dressing rooms she numbly stepped into the one assigned for her. Her eyes focused on the small bouquet of flowers that was signature of her mother, having received one for every recital she had done since high school. But as she came closer another bouquet, smaller than her mother's, caught her attention. It was nearly hidden behind the petals of the first one but its own petals stood out against the light brown vanity table. Gingerly picking up the small assortment of red roses she automatically glanced toward the door.

There must have been some mistake. No one else she could think of could have delivered her flowers. Her mother was the only family member of hers in the audience. Yet as she looked down at the flowers in her hands again she saw that the card was clearly written out to 'Alice'. Much to her annoyance she found no name as to who the gift was from . Searching her mind for a moment the girl tried to remember if there were any other Alices in her class. Yet after a moment she could think of none.

Gathering up her mother's flowers along with the other bouquet she quickly shouldered her tote bag and exited the room. Already other students were starting to leave their dressing rooms to wait for the rest of the recital to finish. She followed the flow of the crowd up to the lobby of the theater that the school had rented out for the night and settled onto an empty bench. She stayed that way for the rest of the night until the audience began to slowly make its way from the auditorium. She instantly spotted her mother who beamed in response.

The older woman enveloped her daughter in her arms before kissing the top of her head. "You were awesome!" she said, her voice full of a mother's pride. Alice held her mother close for a moment, glad to bask in her praise for a few more minutes. Her mother had always been a large part of her various recitals and productions that she had been in through the years. And still after so many years Alice didn't tire of her mother's warmth.

Carol gently patted the girl's hair where she had mussed it before glancing toward the large, entrance doors. "Lets go grab a cab before they are all gone," she said, starting to form a path between the crowd of people waiting at the door. Trying to follow her mother as best as she could Alice finally emerged through the crowd into the November air.

Waiting beside her mother as the woman tried to hail a cab, Alice felt the sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She shifted uncomfortable. Someone was staring at her. Trying to turn and see who it was without drawing attention to herself she slowly looked up to survey the crowd. After a moment she saw no one looking at her but....there! The man quickly turned and for a moment she wondered if he had actually been looking at her, or if she had been mistaken.

"Alice, are you going to stand here all night?"

Jumping she realized that her mother had already hailed a cab, and that she was waiting for her daughter to get in. She handed her tote bag and flowers to her mother in order to get into the cab unhindered.

"Where did you get the roses from Alice? They're beautiful!"

Not hearing her mother Alice tried to spot the man again. But the man wearing the top hat was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I know that I haven't updated this in so long, but I haven't forgotten about it. I intend to keep working on this piece and "Child of Wonderland" when I have the time. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Lewis Carroll owns "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass". Syfy owns "Alice". Gaston Leroux owns "The Phantom of the Opera". Andrew Lloyd Webber owns "Evita".

Alice focused on the growing pile of clothing that had been thrown in front of her. The other woman gestured toward toward the stack of shirts that she had already folded.

"After you are done just put these out on the shelves," she said, inspecting the quality of her folding to make sure that no sleeves were sticking out. Finding nothing to criticize her for the woman exited the back room of "Flirty Fashions". She cringed at the thought of the name. It was too pink-bubble-gum-air-headed-girly to be taken seriously.

Alice bit back a remark before quickly folding the new pile of clothing. Just because Rosalie had been working here longer than her didn't mean that she could just give her work to do. But she knew better than to tell the manager that Rosalie was causing trouble, as the manager was her sister. That would only lead to her being fired, and Carol also in risk. She had to face Rosalie at school Monday and it would be best to just avoid her. The two were in the same voice classes and had both performed the previous month at the recital. She folded the clothing a bit more harshly than needed before gathering up the stack. She shouldered the door open before stepping out into the front of the shop. For a Saturday afternoon, they were unsurprisingly busy. She noticed her mother ringing up a customer at the counter, but didn't stop to talk to her. Rosalie was busy helping a customer but Alice knew that she would look over to check to see if the mother and daughter were working.

Alice tried not to notice the dark rings forming around her mother's eyes when they both prepared themselves for work in the morning. She knew that she was working as much as she could, and Alice was trying to pick up more shifts to ease her workload. As soon as she graduated she would, hopefully, get a job that had a better chance at supporting them. She began her tour of the front room, picking up fallen hangers or fixing displays. She rarely was placed on the register, as she often had trouble with using it. Her mother was much quicker at it.

She let her mind wander as she went through the motions of making herself useful at the shop. She was still lingering to that feeling of accomplishment after the recital the month before. She had received a well enough grade on it, though she would have liked it to be higher. Whenever she asked what exactly her professor wished her to improve on, the answer she got was vague. She could see that he didn't spend as much time on certain students as he did on others. As long as she wasn't bombing out, she didn't think there was much to make a fuss over.

But she couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching her since that night. Now and then she would flick her gaze to the other side of the store, as if she would see there the person who had been looking at her. Instead, she either a busy shopper or the wall caught her gaze. She tried to think nothing of it, no matter how uncomfortable it felt. Instead she tried to focus on the pile of homework waiting for her at home. She thought it very skillful to be able to fold clothing and map out entire essays at the same time.

Before the week ended she would have to choose another song for her next recital, which would be her final grade. She had gone to the library the day before and sifted through piles of librettos, trying to find the right song. After find a few potential ones she has been flipping back and forth between each of them. She wanted to try something more classical, but songs like the one that she had chosen for the last recital were more comfortable for her. She had never been trained in Opera and wasn't about to jump into an aria without the right training. That was Rosalie's genre, anyway. She had been the one to perform a stunning aria that night.

Alice had momentarily looked over a few opera librettos while searching for her song, but had hastily returned them to their shelves. They were too ambitious for her.

She froze, the shirt in her hands hanging limply. Again, that feeling of being watched caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Alice tried to turn her head as if to nonchalantly glance to her side, but the movement seemed too hurried. When she did look behind her out the window to the street beyond it, she found that the people walking past didn't even bother to look through the windows. Maybe she was just being paranoid. School and work were leaving her like this.

Nearly five hours later she exited the shop, glad to toss her name tag among the others resting on the break-room table. Her mother had left an hour earlier and Alice had warned her not to wait up for her. She and Dinah would be up as long as it took that night to choose Alice's next recital piece. Her dear friend, who she had met in a freshman math class, had helped her the entire semester with her music assignments. Although Dinah was focusing on art classes in school, she did have some talent on the piano and most often accompanied her friend during her practices. She had helped Alice choose her previous song and had been with her when the singer had bought the libretto. The songbook was currently resting under a pile of notes and assignments on her desk at home, which caused her to wince as she thought about what was waiting for her. But this was much more important.

Signaling a cab she directed the driver to take her to the other side of town, where Dinah lived with her roommate, Blanche Rabbit. Blanche was often out seducing half of the school's male population which allowed the two friends to spread out all of their librettos and notes all over the kitchen without annoying the girl. It wasn't that Alice didn't like Blanche; she was just a bit too...loose.

After giving the cab driver a portion of her paycheck for the ride she hurried up the stone steps leading to the apartment. She jumped a few times on the stoop, trying to warm her feet as she waited for her friend to answer the intercom. Even though it was early November, winter was starting to settle over the city. Nearly a minute later Dinah's voice floated out of the intercom. "Sorry 'bout that Alice. I was on the phone with Harry." A buzzing from the door notified the cold Alice that the door had been unlocked. Not bothering to answer her friend she hurried through it before starting up the short flight of stairs to Dinah's apartment. Harry Lark had been Dinah's latest boyfriend for about a month, and Alice felt as if she was competing against the man at times for Dinah's attention. Maybe Dinah's behavior with her boyfriends was why Dinah and Blanche got along so well.

Pushing open the already un-locked door, Alice stepped into her friend's apartment. The two-bedroom apartment was about the size of the one that Alice shared with her mother. Only, the Hamilton's apartment wasn't in the same state of disarray as this apartment was. Alice knew that her mother wouldn't have stood for her sitting room to be decorated in such a way even if she had pulled a long shift at the store. She couldn't see her mother ignoring the bra thrown over the sitting room lamp, or the half-empty bag of chips resting on top of the TV.

Avoiding tripping over a laundry basket filled to the brim with unfolded clothing, the young woman headed into the kitchen. There Dinah sat, already with a pile of librettos in front of her on the table. She barely acknowledged the other girl as she sifted through them. "Your recital went well last time," she said, throwing a libretto onto a pile of discards. "I was thinking that we would follow the same path, and go with another showtune. What do you think?" The blond glanced up at her friend, green eyes pinned on Alice as she waited for her decision.

Glancing longingly at "_Pie Jesu_", Alice nodded. "I think that would be for the best." Show-tunes would be easier than making a fool of herself on stage by singing something classical. The two sifted through the stacks of music, slowly making progress. They chattered on about school, their jobs, Dinah's love life and Alice's non-existent one. Quickly skirting them around the topic, as she didn't want to be talked into being set up with one of Harry's friends, Alice tossed a libretto in front of the girl. "How about this?" she asked, pointing at the title.

Dinah glanced over the title for a moment. "This could work," she said, taking the copy of "_I Dreamed a Dream_" into her hands. "Lets give it a try." Walking through the mess of the sitting room with ease she settled herself at the piano before gesturing for Alice to stand beside her. Alice wasn't as lucky as her friend and wound up knocking over a pile of precariously stacked textbooks. Mumbling a quick 'sorry' to her friend, who didn't seem bothered at all that more clutter coated her floor, she came to rest at the edge of the piano. She scanned the page as Dinah started into the song before joining her. Having never seen "_Les Miserables_" before, she wasn't exactly sure how the arrangement would be. But the fourth time through the song made her feel a bit more comfortable than she had been after first choosing the song. The two jumped as the elderly voice of Mrs. Ivanov drifted up through the floorboards in response to the noise, following by the woman's mumbling of Russian curses. Alice hastily took her phone from her pocket to check the time.

"1:30?" she asked, as if expecting Dinah to correct her. She hurriedly navigated herself through the sitting room back to the kitchen to grab her bag. Dinah followed after her before picking up the phone resting on the kitchen counter. "At least let me call you a cab. You can't walk across town at 1:30 in the morning." Alice shook her head. "The subway station is only a block ahead. It won't be any trouble." Taking the subway would be cheaper than hiring a cab as she had done earlier. She wanted to retain some of her paycheck. Anyway, it was only one block away. She could make it. Dinah gave her a quick glance, waiting to see if she was serious, before walking back to the piano. "Take this with you then, to look over. I'll see you next Saturday night then? Maybe earlier, so we don't get cursed out by the Mrs. Crazy." She glared down at the floorboards, as if accusing Mrs. Ivanov 's interruption at 1:30 in the morning to be rude. Alice simply laughed in response before hastily waving over her shoulder. She scooped up the libretto before leaving the apartment. She nearly collided with a tipsy looking Blanche on the stairs, who was giggling to herself over something.

The night air had grown colder during the time that she had been with Dinah. Pulling her woolen coat a bit more tightly around herself she set off down the street. The streetlamps dotted the street with little circles of light, keeping her from growing too nervous. She stubbornly held onto her karate training that she had learned throughout her childhood and early teenage years. That would be enough to keep herself safe. The feeling of someone watching her quickly wiped away those thoughts from her mind. Crossing the street she quickly glanced toward her right, as if expecting to see someone on the other side. Instead, a line of trashcans met her view. Forcing herself to take a deep breath she picked up her walking pace a bit more.

With a twitch of her neck she turned again to find whoever was looking at her so intently. But the empty street came under her scrutiny again. Not bothering to wonder how foolish she looked, or to remember her karate lessons, Alice broke into a run. The subway station was half a block away, and there would be at least one security guard walking around. Sitting in the station waiting for the train next to a drunk would be more comforting than walking down this street. She clambered down the stairs leading to the station, only feeling relieved as she jammed her debit card into the ticket machine. A bleary eyed man waiting by the tracks gave her a curious look but other than him, no one else seemed to be around. Shoving her ticket into her pocket she waited as patiently as she could for the subway to arrive. She shifted the libretto in her arms nervously before jumping as the noise of the subway echoed in the empty station. Nearly twenty minutes later she found herself standing outside of her apartment looking a bit frazzled. She hadn't felt that feeling of nervousness walking back from the station to her apartment, and couldn't find an explanation as to why Dinah's street had upset her so much. Maybe her nerves were going; after years of worrying over recitals maybe she was just permanently nervous. To her tired mind, her diagnosis made complete sense.

After Monday's classes Alice found herself trudging back to her apartment to start on her assignments before her mother returned home. Having a few hours alone to herself was nice, but she usually used them to study. It was easier to concentrate without having her mother chattering up a storm while she tried to flesh out a five page essay. Halting at the mailboxes arranged in the wall in the lobby she gathered up the letters that had been shoved into the Hamilton's box.

Bill.

Bill.

Junk mail.

Letter from Uncle Lewis.

Alice Hamilton.

What?

She reread the envelope that had her name written in plain script. It was a handwriting that she had never seen before, even after she had racked her brain to identify it. There was no return address to identify the mailer, or her address for that matter. She vaguely wondered how they had gotten the letter into her box, if there was no address on it. Starting up the steps she pushed the mysterious envelope to the font of the stack of letters. Alice fumbled with her key to open her apartment door before dropping her books onto the coffee table. She placed the rest of the mail next to her textbooks before carefully opening the envelope addressed to her. A piece of paper, filled with the same writing as the envelope, fell into her lap.

_"But you really should know, I'd be good for you_  
_I'd be surprisingly good for you"_

_You have a gift: you just need to learn how to use it. If you really want to shine in time for your next recital, _

_meet me at Building 4, Apartment 2B on 46th Street and 7th Avenue at 4:00._

_Your friend,_

_H_

Alice felt her eyes blurring as she had locked her gaze onto the paper for so long. Quickly clearing her eyes she glanced at the clock hanging on the far wall.

3:45.

She could make it, if she wanted. The letter made her feel uneasy causing her to place it on top of her textbooks. There was something about the letter that made her feel as if she had read it before. But that couldn't be. Whoever the writer was wasn't trustworthy enough to give her their name or explain how he knew here. It would be foolish of her to go meet with him. She gathered up her textbooks to carry to her room, intent on starting her assignments. Whoever "H" was would just have to forget about their little appointment.

Making room for her textbooks she gathered up the two librettos currently resting on her desk: "_Evita_" and "_Les Miserables_". Her attention halted on "_Evita_", her books forgotten. She hastily picked it up before flipping through the pages. Finally she landed on the correct lyric.

_"But you really should know, I'd be good for you_  
_I'd be surprisingly good for you_"

She knew that she had read that somewhere before H's letter! She thought it curious as to why he had included the lyric in his note. It certainly applied but...why Evita? Unless he really had seen her past recital, and knew that she had combed through the libretto to find her song. They really had heard her then.

Glancing at the alarm clock beside her bed she noted that it was 3:50. This was incredibly stupid of her to even consider meeting up with "H". She didn't even know the man, but he had tried to meet with her. He could be some psycho, or rapist or...something. It wasn't the safe thing to do.

Her gaze flicked down to the libretto still in her hand. She always did the safe thing. She had chosen teaching music instead of performing it for her major. She had chosen to perform show-tunes, compared to classical pieces because it would be a safe choice. Those choices had worked but was she really happy? She dropped the libretto before grabbing the note. She tore out of her room, grabbed her bag and slammed the apartment door.

Being unsafe might just turn her situation around.


End file.
